


The 12 Days of Porn

by loveinadoorway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-13
Updated: 2009-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An idea over at the SPN Writer's Lounge at LJ - Write twelve porny pieces that incorporate the parts from the Xmas song 12 Days of Xmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rock Me, Baby

_  
**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 1**  
_

 **  
Title:** Rock me baby  
 **Author:** loveinadoorway  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, although I sure as hell wouldn’t complain if someone slipped ‘em under the tree for me  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (these ratings are still killing me, sorry)  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 682  
 **Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas**  
 **Warnings: language, sex, bad music**  
 **Summary:** Right before a demon attack, Cas whisks Dean away for some quality time.

  
Cas had whisked them away again.  
It was not a place that existed anywhere in the real here and now, Dean knew, but it was nice all the same. Peaceful.  
The sky was just a little to blue, the sun a little to… bright, but it looked real enough not to weird him out.  
They were in an orchard filled with pear trees.  
In the cool shade of the tree Cas had chosen for them, Dean sat with his back against the trunk and Cas’ head in his lap. He was playing with Cas’ hair.  
“How much time do we have, Cas?”  
“Not long. We need to get back by sunset. Lucifer’s army will attack, I’m sure of it.”  


  
Dean pulled Cas up, claiming the angel’s lips with his. They tongues played with each other and the angel’s hands were already eagerly opening the button on Dean’s jeans.  
Castiel moaned softly.  


He let Dean rip open his shirt, buttons popping every which way.  
He gasped as Dean bit down on his nipple. “Yes!”  
Dean didn’t need encouragement.  
He wrenched down Castiel’s zipper and roughly grabbed the angel’s cock.

  
They were naked in record time. Dean had left the tie on Cas, for a reason best known to himself.  
Dean was stroking Cas’ cock, gently thumbing the tip. He should hurry, sunset was not far off, but it would be a fucking shame to rush this.  
His mouth was plundering the angel’s and Cas was breathing little mewling noises into Dean’s mouth.  


Dean disentangled his mouth and fumbled for the lube he had stuffed in the pocket of his jeans before they left.  
He squeezed a generous helping of the stuff on his hand and started to work one finger into Cas’ tight anus.  
He just loved the way the angel’s eyes glazed over with lust.  
Yeah, so much for his decision not to rush this.  
He so was gonna have to hurry up now, he just couldn’t help himself anymore. That look in Cas’ eyes was enough to almost make him come then and there.  
He quickly spread more lube over his penis, flipped Cas over, pulled the angel’s hips up and entered him with one swift stroke. The angel arched back and gasped with pleasure. Dean put one hand on Cas’ neck, fingers splayed, and pushed him down.  
Dean quickly found the right rhythm. Cas was urging him on with small sounds.

  
He wanted to say something, to say anything, but couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.  


He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, so Dean wrapped his deft fingers around Castiel’s dick. All it took was one single deft downward stroke and Castiel came in one giant, hot wave of pleasure, in almost perfect synchrony with Dean.

  
“And, was this to your liking?” Cas asked softly.  
Dean turned around to look Cas in the eye and said with a huge grin plastered on his face: “Would’ve been totally epic if there had been music in the background. You know, I like me a soundtrack to the special moments in my life.”  
Suddenly, there was music coming from somewhere above them.  
Dean looked up in total amazement.  
David motherfucking Cassidy, ca. 1973 from the look of him, was sitting in the pear tree, singing his sequined tush off.  
“Cas, dude, we seriously have to discuss your taste in music. And it ain’t Christmas, you know.”  
Castiel tilted his head.  
“Why do you assume that I am thinking it’s Christmas? It is July, you know.” the angel asked, obviously bewildered.  
“Because you gave me a fucking Partridge in a pear tree,” gasped Dean, convulsing with laughter.  


you may call me a rolling stone  
I'm a freeborn man and I stand alone  
come looking for a little satisfaction  
I don't drive no Cadillac  
all I got's hangin' on my back  
but I do believe in a physical attraction  
I can warm your coldest night  
I'll make everything alright, c'mon

  
ooh, rock me, baby  
let me feel the beat  
I said, ooh, rock me, baby  
right down to my feet  



	2. Don't Leave Me This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Just a drabble, really. A Winchester's got to do what a Winchester's got to do.

Title: Don't leave me this way  
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of fun, okay? I know they belong to You Know Who.  
Rating: NC-17  
Genre: slash  
Word Count: 284  
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas  
Warnings: sex  
Summary: Just a drabble, really. A Winchester's got to do what a Winchester's got to do.

It was dark in the room.  
Long, pale fingers of moonlight were playing across his lover’s body, bathing the curve of his back in silvery light.  
Dean leant down and kissed his angel’s cheek. Castiel made a small noise in the back of his throat.  
Dean stilled.  
He didn’t want Cas to wake, not until he was miles away, anyway.  
Earlier, they had made love to the calls of a pair of turtle doves wooing each other.  
Earlier, Castiel’s fingers had curled around Dean’s cock, stroking him until Dean could take it no more and flipped Cas over to dive into him.  
Earlier, Dean had come, hot and intense, inside of Cas, gripping his angel’s cock tightly as he, too, came.  
Earlier, Dean had held his angel close in the aftermath of pleasure.  
Earlier, Dean had lied and said they would go after Sammy together in the morning.  
Leaving now felt like someone slammed a fist into his body and broke all of his ribs in the process. He couldn’t breathe, just couldn’t – and trying felt like he was tearing himself apart on the jagged shards of bone inside.  
He picked up the special hex bag that would, if Bobby was right, render him invisible to his angel and put it in the pocket of his jacket.  
At the door, he paused and looked back at the being he loved more than life itself.  
Boy, had it taken him long to admit that. Boy, did it still feel weird. But right now, Castiel needed to be kept safe and the only way to do that was to leave now.  
He hesitated with his hand on the door knob.  
Lucifer was waiting.  
Lucifer and Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinners can be difficult. A longish drabble

_  
**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 3**   
_

  
**Title:**   
  
Echoes   
  
**Author:** loveinadoorway  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, although I still think I've been an awfully good girl, Santa baby!  
 **Rating:** PG-13? (these ratings keep killing me)  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 393  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** mentions masturbation and I use the word penis once. more yearning than porn, actually  
 **Summary:** Dinners can be difficult. A longish drabble

There were echoes in his mind.  
Echoes of Jimmy Novak.  
The odd like and dislike. Some disjointed memories, some random experiences.  
Castiel used to disregard them, used to find them annoying, but lately he had started paying attention to them.  
They helped.  
Helped him understand some of the things Dean said, Dean did, or Dean thought.  
It seemed important to understand.  
Important for his mission, of course.

Jimmy Novak, being a righteous and heterosexual man, however, did not leave echoes behind that were helpful in any way regarding the strange feeling that pooled in the pit of the angel’s stomach every time the corners of those green eyes crinkled in mostly inappropriate mirth.  
They were not helpful when it came to explain why Castiel would want to find out what it would feel like to run his thumb over the ginger stubble on Dean’s chin.  
And they were decidedly not helping with making Castiel understand why he wanted to lick the small dribble of sauce from the edge of Dean’s lips in the middle of a diner.  
What they were very good at explaining, however, was that what was happening inside the angel’s pants was called an erection and there was no way to explain that away.  
Castiel should not be having these feelings, should not look at a human being with lust and most of all should not want to touch, feel, taste Dean Winchester.

There were echoes of Jimmy Novak stroking his penis reverberating through his mind now.  
Echoes of how that had made Jimmy feel.  
Castiel was fighting the urge to touch himself under the cheap Formica table.  
He wanted to touch Dean more than he wanted to touch himself, of course, but that was completely out of the question. He couldn’t risk the wrath of his superiors, not at such a crucial point in time. He couldn’t risk to Fall.  
But most of all, he couldn’t risk seeing not lust, not love, but disgust in those green eyes.

“Hey, Cas, what’s with the pensive stare?”  
“Nothing.” The angel shook himself. “I just wonder why they called this diner The Three French Hens. There’s nothing French on the menu at all.”  
“Man, the weird workings of your mind… Doesn’t matter, really, does it? Food’s good. Are you eating your pie, or not?”  
Castiel wordlessly pushed his plate over to Dean..


	4. The calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quiet moment before another decisive battle. A longish drabble

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 4**_  
 **Title:** The calm before the storm  
 **Author:** loveinadoorway  
 **Disclaimer:** Nothing here is mine, except the  weird and sometimes filthy imagination!  
 **Rating:** PG-13? (these ratings keep killing me)  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 453  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** again more yearning than porn  
 **Summary:** a quiet moment before another decisive battle. A longish drabble

He took a long swig out of the bottle, then passed it along to his silent companion.  
They looked out over the lake. It was the proverbial calm before the storm, a night so quiet it was eerie. Not even the slightest breeze was stirring.  
From somewhere to the right came the lonely call of a bird.  
"Are we going to do this again?" he asked at long last.  
"I do not know."  
He took the bottle back and took another swig. The whisky burned a hot trail down his throat. Tomorrow would be decisive, he knew. And things weren't looking good. But then, when were they ever?  
The question was threatening to tear up his throat on the way out, burning worse than the rotgut whisky.  
"Are we going to do anything together ever again after tomorrow?"  
He looked at his angel. Or rather, he looked at the collar of his goddamned trench, afraid to meet Castiel's eyes.  
His hand crept tentatively over to Cas' and he laced his fingers trough the angel's.  
Cas shifted his position slightly, so he could look at Dean.  
Another bird answered the first one's call from the left.  
He sometimes didn't know what the human expected of him. Did he want the lie, did he want to be assured that all would be well and they would live out tomorrow's battle? Or would he rather have the truth, however painful or however empty and meaningless?  
Castiel sighed and settled for the latter.  
"What would you have me say, Dean? I do not know such things."  
"Lie to me, Cas. Just lie to me, please. Give me something to fight for tomorrow."  
Dean's voice was very soft and desperate.  
From the far end of the lake, a third bird called.  
Cas tilted his head as he tried to come up with a lie that rang true enough for Dean to consciously buy into it. A lie that would truly give comfort.  
"Tomorrow night, it will rain and I will lick the droplets from your cheekbones. And because I have never done that, I will neither let you die nor die myself without this experience. And because of the million other things I can imagine and haven't yet done with you, we will both live for a long time still."  
"Okay then." said Dean as he rested his head against Castiel's.  
In the tree behind them, the fourth bird called.  
.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets drunk, watches an old movie on tv, wanks and dreams a little dream of Cas

_  
**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 5**   
_   
**  
Title:   
**   
Cas-a-blanca  
 **Disclaimer:** Nothing here is mine, and I don’t even know who wrote this, mommy, really! I’m a good girl, I say. *stomps her foot* Now where’s my Dean for Xmas?  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 3593  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** sex, language, booze, cheap puns, bad quotes, the lot  
 **Summary:** Dean gets drunk, watches an old movie on tv, wanks and dreams a little dream of Cas 

  
_Dean sprawled on the dingy sofa in front of the tv. He had made good progress through a bottle of whisky and was watching Casablanca.  
God knew where Sam was, he didn’t even bother listening to the lies anymore, he just got the booze out and tried to get his brain to shut the fuck up as fast as he could.  
He was drunk, he was horny, he was alone and Ingrid Bergman was starting to look hotter by the minute.  
He lazily started to stroke himself, rubbing his thumb hard down along the fabric next to the zipper.  When that seemed to get old as well as uncomfortably restricted, he opened the zipper and took his dick out. He ran his hand over his shaft, squeezing lightly, found his rhythm and kept going. Easy as pie, no conscious thought necessary, or even wanted._

 _He took another swig of whisky, then realized that the bottle was all but empty, with just a tiny dreg left. He shrugged and finished it off promptly.  
He started to giggle, as he kept tossing himself off watching some goddamned black and white movie, couldn’t stop, didn’t even know why.  
Was just the giggly stage of absolute plasteredness, he thought and shrugged again. He almost fell off the sofa as a result, which made him giggle even harder.  
Bergman was looking real hot in that shot  
.  
A kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is still a sigh  
The fundamental  things apply, as time goes by  
  
He gave himself another firm stroke and came.  
He fell asleep almost immediately after, Casablanca droning on in the background.  
_  
He was walking through a narrow street that smelled of camels, urine, spices and frying fat.  
Dean strode purposefully towards Castiel’s Bar.  
He simply had to persuade his old lover to ensure that he could leave Casablanca with his brother Sam Laszlo.  
He entered the bar and paused to get his bearings.  
Cas was sitting at the bar, he noticed immediately.  
His mussed up, feathery black hair looked exactly as appealing as he remembered it and he just knew those blue eyes would be just a soulful and piercing as they used to be. Castiel’s lithe frame was clad in his customary straight suit, something like the kink version of a tax accountant’s get-up. His ever-present trench was folded neatly on the stool next to him.

Dean sauntered over, trying to look nonchalant and carefree, as he sat down on the stool on the other side of Castiel.  
“Hey Cas.” So far, so good. Sounded reasonably suave.  
“Dean.” Castiel said, in a low voice that did not bode well.  
Cas took a sip of his whisky. Dean signaled the barman to hit him with one, too.  
“Of all the bars, Dean, of all the bars…” Cas half-growled. “What are you doing here?”  
Cas tilted his head in the annoying manner he always tilted it when he was puzzled.  
Dean purposefully placed his hand on top of the other man’s. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  
Castiel pulled his hand away as if he had gotten burned.  
“You lost the right to touch me a long time ago, Dean.”  
It killed Dean, the way Cas could convey utter disgust, anger and joy without ever using a single swear word. Mostly, he even managed without any actual words. His expressive eyes and those weird little stances of his were usually enough.

“What do you want, Dean?”  
“I need your help.”  
Dean paused. Castiel remained silent.  
“Sam and I need to get out of here, fast. There are bad people after us, Cas, they are real monsters. Demons. And they’re gunning for Sam.”  
“And you, being Daddy’s good little soldier like you are, won’t stop at anything to get your brother away from them. Even if it means coming to me. Even though you know you have nothing to expect from me. Even if it will mean making a deal that will take you to hell and back.”  
Castiel stared into his drink as he spoke and Dean suddenly realized that Cas was stinking drunk. Which didn’t tally with the Castiel he knew intimately, the model of sobriety, the veritable angel of righteousness.  
“Can we go somewhere more quiet, please, Cas?” Dean said softly.  
“Sure. C’mon.”

Castiel slid from the bar stool and led the way to the bar’s office. He sat behind the desk, drink still firmly in hand and looked up at Dean.  
“So?”  
Dean sat down in the old leather armchair. The old upholstery felt so familiar under Dean’s palms that he relaxed out of habit.  
“You are absolutely right, Cas. I will do anything to get Sam to safety. Anything. You want revenge, fine. You want to hurt me something awful, fine. Just anything you want, I give it to you if you get Sam out of here.”  
“And you are sure your brother merits such loyalty, after all he has done? Being what he is?”  
“Doesn’t change a thing. He’s my brother, he’s my responsibility. Just name your price.”  
Castiel swirled the whisky around in his tumbler. He appeared to be thinking hard about the way he should word what he wanted from Dean. How do you con a con man? Most likely, you didn’t, but Dean thought Cas would try.

“You will come over here at my bidding. You will service me in any way I require.  For every time I feel fully satisfied, I will give you a golden ring. Once you have won five golden rings, you are free to go and I will see that you are taken anywhere you wish to go. In style.”  
“No. Takes too long. Sam needs to get out of here immediately.” Dean said, voice gruff.  
Castiel held up his hand.  
“I will get Sam out of town on the morning plane. I know you will not go back on your word. You will look for loopholes, of course, but you won’t break a promise.”  
He looked directly into Dean’s eyes.  
“Okay,” said Dean, “deal. Soon’s Sammy is outta here, I’m yours until I got those stupid golden rings.”  
Dean was desperate, utterly desperate. That deal didn’t sound half bad to him. He could do that. Easily. And Sam would be out of there the next morning.

Dean stood on the runway and watched Sam’s plane vanish in the distance. Everything had gone smoothly, but then, he hadn’t expected anything less from Castiel.  
The man was Mr. Organized and it had driven Dean to distraction in the past.  
He hadn’t let on towards Sammy, but after his initial euphoria had died down, he had started to worry about the deal with Cas. He didn’t know what his ex would do to him, how hard he’d make it to win those goddamned rings.  
Castiel had seemed almost like a stranger last night. Dean had never seen him drunk before and he had to admit it had scared him. Especially since he couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be a regular occurrence these days.  
So Dean was decidedly getting uncomfortable about the deal he had made, to put it mildly. Okay, it might beat making a deal with the devil – and Dean was pretty certain had the opportunity presented itself, he’d done that too, to get his brother to safety.

As he was getting closer to Castiel’s Bar, Dean grew more and more apprehensive. He walked up the familiar steps on the side of the building, which led to Cas’ apartment, and knocked on the door.  
Castiel opened and stepped aside immediately to let Dean inside.  
“Did Sam get out alright?” Castiel asked in a neutral voice.  
“As expected, yes.”  
Dean looked around the apartment, which was still as he remembered it, stark white all over and spotlessly clean.  
The only splash of color was a dark red rug in front of the fireplace.  
Dean felt heat flood his entire body as he recalled all the things they had done on that rug and how soft it had felt against his skin.  
There was soft piano music tinkling from the speakers of Cas’ excellent sound system  
.  
Castiel was leaning against the wall, completely immobile.  
He was in shirtsleeves, but still wore his goddamned eternal blue tie. His shirt looked crisp and cool and Dean found himself wanting to just walk up to Cas and rip it clean off his lithe body.  
He tried to pull himself together, licked his lips and asked: “So, Cas, what do you want me to do now?”  
He hated how husky his voice sounded.  
Castiel wordlessly crooked his finger. Dean crossed the distance with a few steps, then looked at Cas expectantly.  
“On your knees, if you please.” said Castiel, sounding almost bored in his detachment.  
Dean knelt in front of Cas.  
“As I recall, your blow jobs were always quite spectacular.” Cas said in the same flat voice.  
Dean swallowed hard and opened the fly on Cas’ soft woolen trousers  
.  
Cas was wearing boxers, Dean noted with an equal mix of surprise and delight. He had told Castiel over and over how much better he liked boxers, but Cas had stubbornly insisted on wearing briefs the entire time they had been together.  
Dean placed his lips against the fabric and gently sucked Cas’ soft member to attention. He was please to hear the sharp intake of breath above him, as he slid the boxers down and took Cas’ dick in his mouth. Dean’s fingers caressed Castiel’s balls, stroking, squeezing and tickling softly, while he put his mouth to work.  
He had almost forgotten just how much he loved the taste of Cas. Dean expertly made use of his tongue, lips and teeth, letting up or increasing the pressure as needed and was rewarded by low, desperate moans and Cas’ hands gripping his short hair tightly, urging him on.  
Cas’ hips started bucking helplessly and Dean took him in deep right before Cas started to come in hot spurts into Dean’s mouth.

Castiel let go of Dean’s hair, disengaged his cock from Dean’s mouth, pulled up boxers and pants, zipped himself and walked briskly away from Dean’s kneeling form.  
He sat on the sofa, face totally composed, as if he had never moaned and whimpered, as if he had never bucked against Dean’s lips, as if he hadn’t just come a mere minute previously.  
“Come here.” he commanded voice calm and collected.  
Dean got up, walked over and sat on the sofa next to Castiel. So this was what Cas had been playing at. Pretending never to be satisfied, so Dean wouldn’t ever get his five golden rings.  
Fucking asshole.  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Castiel said: “Give me your right hand.”  
He gingerly held Dean’s hand with two fingers and slipped a white gold ring with a geometric pattern on Dean’s right thumb. It was a perfect fit.  
“You may leave now. Come back to the bar this evening.” Cas said dismissively.  
Dean left, surprised and more than slightly shook up.

He ran to the dingy hotel he had booked a room in and ripped his clothes from his body, barely taking the time to close the door to his room behind him. He was so beyond aroused and the hard-on inside his jeans had been killing him. He tossed himself off furiously on the bed, thinking of Castiel’s eyes, his taste, his familiar body under his hands, Cas inside of him. It only took a minute to come. The rough chafing of his new ring on his dick added a whole new thrill to the act.  
He lay on the bed, spent, but not really sated. He held his hand up. The ring was quite beautiful, he thought. Trust Cas to pick something that was quintessential Dean. White gold, not red; simple, yet fetching geometric patterns. He ran his thumb over the surface appreciatively  
.  
When he walked the few yards from his hotel to the bar that evening, Dean felt a lot less apprehensive than he had that morning. He should’ve known that Cas would play fair. Castiel was fairness personified and Dean actually felt embarrassed by his earlier fears.  
Cas was once more sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. Dean walked over and sat down next to him.  
“Hey, Cas.”  
“Dean.” Cas gave a small nod to acknowledge his presence.  
Dean was wondering just how drunk Cas already was. There was no telling, as Cas was all about control and Dean suspected he’d have to be totally wasted before he’d actually slip in any way.  
So Dean once more tentatively placed his hand on Cas’.  
This time, Castiel left his had where it was.

“Do you like the ring I chose?” Cas asked in a low, husky voice.  
“It’s… perfect, actually.”  
“Good. Now go up to the apartment and wait for me there.”  
“Can’t you come with me right away?” Dean asked, putting a bit of flirtatiousness in his manner. He didn’t want Cas to stay in the bar and keep on drinking.  
“No. Go upstairs and wait for me.” Cas said with a hint of steel in his voice.  
Dean obeyed. He knew from experience that anything else would be a waste of time and effort and might even end in making him acutely miserable.  
He leaned over, kissed Castiel softly on the temple and whispered into his ear: “Cas, please, don’t get drunk. I don’t like that, please.”  
Castiel turned to him and looked him directly in the eye for the first time that day. His gaze was steady and clear.  
“Alright, Dean. Now leave.”

It was late when Castiel finally walked through the door. Dean had fallen asleep on the sofa, but at the sound of the opening door, he practically snapped to attention.  
“Take off your clothes.” Cas said quietly.  
Dean got up and started shrugging out of his shirt.  
“Quite the conversationalist you are these days, Cas.”  
“You will kindly keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to use it for something worthwhile. Conversation was not part of our deal,” Castiel snapped. “Now get naked.”  
Dean hurried up. Socks, pants, boxers, all went on the same untidy heap as his shirt and tee.  
Castiel settled on the sofa and just looked at Dean, head to toe. Stared hard, intent, until Dean became decidedly flustered and his dick took on a life of its own.  
He started to fidget.

“There’s lube in the blue vase on that shelf there. Go get it. Then fuck me.” Castiel said in the same flat, steely voice he had used previously.  
When Dean turned back towards the sofa, lube in hand, he saw that Cas had put a blanket on the sofa and had let his pants down. Fastidious as ever, Dean thought, thinking of the white leather sofa first.  
Dean settled himself astride Castiel.  
When he tried to kiss Cas, however, he turned his face away.  
“I want to be fucked good and proper. Nothing more, nothing less.” Cas said in a cold, even voice.  
Dean was taken aback. He nevertheless slipped his hand between Cas’ shirt and his neck, intending to undo the buttons.  
“I said just fuck me. “ Castiel said with a lot of emphasis.  
“Okay, you damned bastard, I fuck you alright.” Dean snarled.

He slapped lube on his hand, then got up, flipped and tilted Cas until his ass was easily accessible.  
Well, if the tight-assed bastard didn’t want foreplay, he the fuck did not qualify for being loosened up, either. So Dean just spread the lube over his dick and impaled Cas’ ass without further ado.  
Cas grunted.  
It was sure to hurt like shit, but Dean was past caring. He pulled back and shoved forward forcefully again, eliciting a painful gasp from Castiel.  
The next thrusts were more gentle, as Dean was trying to establish a steady rhythm. He grasped Cas’ dick in his hand. Castiel was hard, in spite of or because of the rough play Dean didn’t know.  
He started stroking Cas in synch with his thrusts and was rewarded by a soft, pleading moan. That sound drove Dean frantic with need and he increased the pace further, feeling Castiel’s hips buck and shudder as he was driving them both over the edge. Cas screamed as he came.  
Dean felt dizzy afterwards, but he followed his plan through regardless.  
He pulled out quickly and walked to the bathroom to clean himself off, as if it all hadn’t done a thing for him. Payback’s a bitch, dude.  
Only there in the cool bathroom did he allow himself the luxury to sink on the toilet seat and think about how amazing it had felt to be inside Cas again.

Dean woke up the next day around noon with the hangover of the century. He had wordlessly dressed and left Castiel’s place to go get shitfaced on a bottle of cheap whisky in his shitty hotel room. He had barely paused long enough for Cas to slip the second ring on his index finger. Another perfect fit, another beautiful white gold ring with a different pattern than the last one.  
He swore as he remembered that he had been ordered to Cas’ apartment by noon, which made him late already.  
By the time he burst through the door, Castiel had seemingly used the waiting period to get some serious drinking in. There was an empty brandy bottle on the table and Cas looked like hell.  
What really shocked Dean, however, was the serious array of SM gear on the sofa. All manners of whips and chains, even wickedly glinting knives.

“Took your time, Dean, didn’t you.” said Cas, enunciating much to carefully. “Today we will see if you are any good at dispensing physical pain.”  
“Oh no we won’t! What the hell are you playing at, Castiel?” Dean snarled. “You make me perform acts on your body without any participation on your side, you don’t want any niceties, you seem to want me to hurt you… What the fuck is your game?”  
Cas was swaying slightly as he groped for the right words.  
He smiled unpleasantly and said: “I am trying to get you the fuck out of my system.” He snorted a laugh. “Literally. Only, it’s not working at all.”  
“The way you’re pushing me, it looks more like your angling for a fight.”  
“I’m actually angling for you to put me out of my misery.”  
“What?”  
“You all but killed me when you left me. I can’t forget you, you can do anything to me, anything at all and still I can’t help but love you. Just finish the job and be on your way. I don’t care if I live or die, either way is fine for me. Just don’t make me live like this any longer. There isn’t enough booze in the world to dull this pain.”  
“Have you gone mental?”  
“Yes, probably.” Cas glared at him, then made a sharp movement with his hand. “Get the fuck out of here.”

With that, Cas tossed the three remaining rings at Dean.  
“Take them and leave. You’re free to go. Show the rings to the bartender. He’ll give you your travel documents and some cash.”  
“That’s not our deal.” Dean said, suddenly quiet and desperate. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t walk out that door, not ever seeing Cas again.  
“I made the deal, I can break it, too. Get out.”  
Dean walked over to Cas and roughly grabbed him by the shoulders of his jacket. He pulled Castiel up and kissed him hard. Cas’ mouth opened for him immediately and Dean greedily plunged his tongue in, savoring the taste of Cas.  
“I won’t go. I love you.” he gasped when they came up for air.  
“I love you too, Dean. Always have, always will. But you just left me without a word. Why did you leave me?”  
“Sam. I had to take care of Sammy.”  
“One day, Sam will have to take care of himself. One day, he will have to face the consequences of his deeds.” Castiel said darkly, as they proceeded to tear each other’s clothes off.  
After that, there was no room for talking anymore.

 _Dean awoke when he came.  
“Holy crap,” he gasped, “what kind of a fucked up dream was that!”  
He had just finished cleaning the spunk off his stomach and gotten himself decent again, when Castiel materialized in front of him.  
“Jumpin’ Jaysus, Cas. Stop doing that to me!” he yelled.  
“You are drunk.”  
“No shit, Sherlock.”  
“You drink entirely too much of late. It worries me.”  
Dean looked at Castiel, dumbfounded.  
“You worry about me?”  
“You are my charge, you are needed to fight the breaking of the seals. Certainly I worry when you do things that are detrimental to your health.” Cas said with that strange, obstinate thrust of his chin that always signaled the angel was aggravated.  
“Why are you here, Cas. I mean, really. You haven’t just come to lecture me on the evils of drinking, have you?” Dean asked, running his hand through his hair.  
“No.”  
“So?”_

 _Castiel walked over to the window and peered intently outside. If Dean didn’t know better, he would say the angel was stalling.  
“Sometime this century would be nice, Cas.”  
“The ring you are always wearing on your thumb.”  
“What of it?”  
“You lost it when Alistair…”  
“Yeah. Not a good subject. Can it.”  
“I thought… I thought you might like a new one.” Castiel’s voice was soft and almost uncertain.  
“You… you got me a new ring?”  
“Yes. If you want it, that is.”  
“Sure do.”  
Cas walked over to Dean and took his right hand. He held it gently with two fingers and slipped a beautiful white gold ring with geometric patterns on Dean’s thumb. It was a perfect fit.  
Dean couldn’t believe his eyes.  
“Dude, have you been spying on my dream just now?”  
Castiel looked at him with his patented deadpan gaze.  
Then suddenly and completely unexpectedly, he smiled. It was brilliant, open, heartbreaking, warming, lovely and out and out sexy.  
“Play it again, Dean.”  
It might just be the beginning of a beautiful friendship._   



	6. As the world falls down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   The devil has Sam in his claws and it doesn’t look like he’ll let go.

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 6**_  
 **Title:** As the world falls down  
 **Disclaimer:** Just borrowing them for a bit of fun, okay? I know they belong to You Know Who.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 408  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Sam/Lucifer  
 **Warnings:** sex, torture, pretty nasty and I don’t know where that came from, really.  
 **Summary:** The devil has Sam in his claws and it doesn’t look like he’ll let go.

He smiled at Sam, gently, like a lover.  
He slid the knife across Sam’s chest, leaving hot red trails in its wake.  
He lapped the blood up like a cat, his tongue shockingly rough against Sam’s skin.  
He lightly bit on Sam’s nipple, pulling it up a little, teasing it, licking it.  
He hummed “Six geese a-laying, six geese a-laying…”  
The knife now traced a path over Sam’s abdomen, leaving icy-hot needles of pain behind.  
“You know, Sam, it greatly disappointed Azazel that our six geese didn’t all lay the right kinds of eggs. But you, oh you are so special. I can taste Azazel in your blood. So good, so rich.”  
Lucifer looked at Sam Winchester and smiled again. It was an engaging smile in an engaging face and it scared Sam to the core of his being.

Lucifer dipped his head and licked across Sam’s penis.  
“You want me to do this, dear boy, don’t you? My special little gosling.”  
“No. Don’t.”  
Those were Sam’s first words. He had maintained stoic silence throughout the torture and the taunts, but he just couldn’t let that happen.  
“But Sam, I know you want it, deep down inside. I know all the dark things you so carefully hide from everyone, including your precious brother.”  
Lucifer stroked Sam’s dick until it was firm.  
Sam couldn’t help it, he didn’t understand what was happening to him, but he suddenly did want this.  
Did want Lucifer to continue.  
Couldn’t control his own body anymore.  
“YES!” bellowed the dark voice inside of him and he could feel the unclean thing slither excitedly.  
“Yes, dear, that’s better, isn’t it? We shall have so much fun together, you and I.”  
Lucifer’s voice was pleasant, light and friendly.

The knife cut a streaming red line along the inside of Sam’s thigh, while the devil fondled Sam’s cock with his other hand, wickedly deft fingers gliding across the slitted tip and along the entire length of the shaft. Pleasurepain all over. It was the vilest thing that Sam had ever felt and the dark voice inside his head reveled in it.  
“Please…" croaked Sam and realized he didn’t even know what he was pleading for anymore.  
Lucifer laughed softly and whispered into Sam’s ear : “Not so impatient, sweet boy, I will get you there, just you wait and see!”  
Sam whimpered, as the devil slipped one finger into his anus and the world tilted irrevocably.  
 


	7. The Madness That Calls “Now”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Dean needs to clear something up, before he can start anything with Cas.

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 7**_  
 **Title:** The Madness That Calls “Now”  
 **Disclaimer:** Seriously not mine, Title, first and last line taken from David Bowie’s song Cygnet Committee  
 **Rating:** PG-13? (still not sure about that, but as nothing happens, really…)  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 819  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas ; Jimmy Novak  
 **Warnings:** a little language and the intent to have sex at one point in the future  
 **Summary:**   Dean needs to clear something up, before he can start anything with Cas.

  
_I bless you madly, sadly as I tie my shoes.._.

“I want to talk to Jimmy.”  
“What?”  
“Before we do anything, I want to talk to Jimmy. You know. Jimmy Novak, the guy who loaned you this body? This body you’ll be using to do real bad things with me? You do remember him, don’t you?”  
“Why would you want to talk to Jimmy?” Cas asked, head tilted once more.  
“Because it just doesn’t seem right, okay?”  
“But why?”  
“It is his body, Cas. His. He lent it to you for a purpose and I just doubt the purpose was to have sex with me. A part of me would always… wonder. Worry. Not feel okay with it.”  
“Unless Jimmy Novak tells you it’s okay for me to use his body to have intercourse with you.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Sometimes, you surprise me, Dean Winchester.”  
“How so?”  
“For someone who tries so hard to act the tough guy, the bad guy even, you have surprisingly rigid morals sometimes.”  
“Well, I got a thing for consensual sex, you know. Comes with the territory.”

They were sitting on a bench on the shores of a lake somewhere in rural Midwestern USA.  
Dean’s face was closed, guarded, and Castiel knew exactly why.  
John had left the boys underfunded and alone for too long far too often, when hunts just got longer or something new came up suddenly.  
And Dean, being who he was and who he is, had to take care of Sammy.  
Even if it meant peddling his own ass in some alleyway so he could buy food.  
Cas had seen it all, but his orders had been not to interfere.  
Castiel was fairly certain that Dean would not react well to that, so he kept his own face closed and guarded as well, pretending he knew nothing of what Dean had had to go through growing up.

Cas left the body.  
Dean knew exactly when it happened, it was obvious in the way the body he had come to associate with his angel suddenly rocked backwards. How the whole stance and body language changed.  
When the blue eyes reopened, Dean knew it was Jimmy Novak he was dealing with.  
“Hey, Jimmy.”  
“Dean…” Jimmy sounded confused, uncertain. “What happened?”  
“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something. So Castiel left.”  
“What was it you wanted?” Jimmy asked, confusion still prominent in his voice.  
“I, uh… I have this thing with Cas.”  
“Thing with Cas? I don’t understand!”  
“We… we’re… kind of involved.”  
“Well, yes, you are his charge.”  
“No, Jimmy, I mean we, uh, we’re d-dating.”  
Man, that word was just plain stupid, but Dean just couldn’t wrap his vocal chords around anything else right now.  
Jimmy Novak looked shocked.  
“But Castiel he… he’s an angel of the Lord!”  
“Yeah, I know that and believe me, it doesn’t make things any easier, really. But we’re really… involved, man. And that he uses your body… makes things… more complicated. I can’t let anything happen to what… what really is YOUR body, you know what I mean? Not unless you’re okay with it.”

A swan, its mate and their five cygnets were swimming across the lake in the distance, rippling the calm surface of the water in their wake.  
Jimmy Novak thought hard about the whole situation.  
He had been chosen as Castiel’s vessel for his faith.  
Faith that did involve believing that sexuality and marriage correlated. Faith that was tended to in churches where it was taught that sexuality was only okay between people of the opposite sex.  
But then again, what was the sex of angels? Nobody knew.  
So who was Jimmy Novak to decide what was wrong and what was right for Castiel.  
Yet… Cas was using Jimmy’s body and Jimmy just didn’t swing that way.  
It took Jimmy a long time to ponder the many facets of this conundrum.  
Finally, he nodded and said: “If that’s the way things are, you may do as you please with my body.”  
“You … you sure about that?”  
“Castiel is an angel. If he is willing to risk to Fall because of you, he must be very serious about the two of you.”  
“So, we’re cool?”  
“Yes, Dean, we’re cool. Thank you for asking me. That means a lot to me.”

And again it was very obvious to Dean when Castiel returned to his vessel.  
The body was suddenly sitting more upright, looked more… awe-inspiring. The whole body language was entirely different. His angel was home.  
“Are we good now?” asked Castiel.  
“Yeah, it seems Jimmy’s a pretty cool dude.”  
“Jimmy Novak is a righteous man, Dean, not a cool dude.”  
“I think that’s one and the same thing in this case, Cas.”  
Dean smiled and put his arm around Castiel.  
No need to rush things.  
No need at all.

_I love you badly, just in time, at times, I guess..._   



	8. As the lava ravishes the mead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Dean and Sam investigate a haunted barn.

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 8**_  
 **Title:** As the lava ravishes the mead  
 **Disclaimer:** Okay, I might have gotten them a bit dirty and some edges are a wee bit frayed, but as they are not mine, I still promise they will be returned in… uh… well, not pristine condition, but the next best thing, okay? Title taken from Keats.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** Actually, I don’t really know. Technically, these monsters are female, does that make it het? ;0)  
 **Word Count:** 530  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean, Sam/Monster  
 **Warnings:** sex and gore and ick.  
 **Summary:** Dean and Sam investigate a haunted barn.

On the bend of the river, they stopped the car.  
The farm was just across the rushing water, but curiously enough, the barn was on this side of the river.  
Dean got out of the Impala first. The newspapers were rather fuzzy on the subject, but it did seem like seven men had died in this barn during the past 7 weeks. Always on a Saturday. So, the Winchesters being the Winchesters, they of course had to come here on a Saturday night.  
“I don’t like this one bit, Sammy,” said Dean, frowning at the looming structure he was facing. “We have no clue what killed those guys, so we also got no clue what we’re facing and I don’t like this one bit.”  
“You’re repeating yourself.”  
“You’re repeating yourself, yadda yadda…” muttered Dean under his breath.  
He wrenched open the barn door and they stepped inside. He motioned for Sam to take the left side of the barn and moved to the right himself.

“Hello Sam,” a sultry voice whispered into Sam’s ear. He jumped and wheeled to face the owner of the voice. He found himself looking at a woman in an old-fashioned dress, complete with tight bodice and heaving bosom peeking out of it.  
“Who are you?”  
“I’m the eighth maid. I am here to pleasure you, Sam. You’d like me to do that, wouldn’t you?”  
The woman was smiling seductively and the flashlight slipped from Sam’s hand. She was on him in a flash, pushing him to the ground and tearing his shirt off as she claimed his mouth with hers.  
She straddled him and the subtle motions of her hips drove Sam insane with need. He moaned.  
The woman freed his erection from his pants and Sam could now feel that she had gone commando under her dress. She guided him inside of her and started to ride him in earnest.

Dean heard noises from the other side of the barn.  
He silently crossed over to the left side and found his brother being thoroughly fucked by whatever it was that they were hunting.  
Just as he wondered if he should be a merciful brother and wait until Sam got a happy, the woman dropped her disguise. From her dress, a snake’s lower body uncoiled and her face changed horribly to something half human, half reptile. She opened her mouth and a forked tongue slid out from between a horrible set of fangs.  
Sam was moaning helplessly, obviously almost reaching the climax, but Dean had no choice anymore. He pulled his gun and emptied an entire clip of silver bullets into the lamia’s head. Sam was spattered with blood, gore and brain tissue and his face froze in horror, while his body apparently hadn’t seen the stop sign yet and pulled him into a fantastic orgasm.

Much, much later, they were sitting in the local bar, getting very drunk very fast.  
“You know we have to go there to get the other seven maids, right Sammy?” Dean slurred. “Think we can do that without you getting milked again?” He snorted a laugh into his whisky.  
Sam stared stony-faced ahead and did not reply at all. 


	9. They call it exotic dancing, Ma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Trying to find the ghost of a dead stripper, the boys do some research in a strip club

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 9**_  
 **Title:** They call it exotic dancing, Ma  
 **Disclaimer:** As always, not mine and who knows me also knows I wouldn’t even have designs on the puppy dog if it were mine.  
 **Rating:** PG-13? (still not sure about that, but as nothing much happens, really…)  
 **Genre:** gen?  
 **Word Count:** 354  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean; Sam; strippers  
 **Warnings:** a little language and sex without any… details. no slash at all.  
 **Summary:**   Trying to find the ghost of a dead stripper, the boys do some research in a strip club

The strippers were grinding themselves silly, trying too hard to be sexy to look anything else than desperate and cheap.  
Dean impassively surveyed the poles, then settled down for number seven.  
He wasn’t buying what the redhead was selling, just trying to figure out whose vengeful spirit was offing the hookers in the alley out back.  
Didn’t really matter where he sat.  
Dean surveyed the other eight poles once more.  
No, this was the only spot  with a bearable view in the whole joint.

Sam pulled up the chair next to him.  
“Have you found anything yet?” his brother asked in a slightly breathless voice.  
“No thanks to you, but yeah. Stripper, killed herself two years back. Sounds like she might fit the profile.”  
“Okay. What next?”  
“You go back there and ask the girls if they know anything. They’ll suck that puppy dog thing of yours right up, I’m sure. And I’ll see if I can squeeze the bartender for info.”  
Sam walked past poles number eight and nine to the door that lead backstage. Backstage, well, if it could be called that at all. Nothing more than a shoddy, drafty room, where several bored girls were putting on makeup.

Dean was pissed off.  
The bartender had taken two twenties and hadn’t really told Dean much of anything, except that the dead girl’s name had been Miranda. Yeah, right, fat chance.  
He walked back to pole number seven, but Sam wasn’t there yet.  
Dean sighed and went backstage.  
No sign of Sammy, but someone sure was getting a good workout from one of the strippers. She was enthusiastically riding some git who was grunting and moaning like there was no tomorrow.  
Dean appreciatively watched the motions of the stripper’s bare ass.  
Suddenly, the guy yelled “YES!” and Dean, recognizing the voice in an instant, roared: “Sammy what the hell do you think you’re doing there? You call this research? You get out from under that girl in 10 seconds flat and meet me in the car, or so help me God, I will drag you out of here myself, with your pants down!”


	10. I am the Lord of the Dance, said he

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Dean and Cas try to keep a seal from breaking in a convention center during a performance of Riverdance.

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 10**_  
 **Title:** I am the Lord of the Dance, said he  
 **Disclaimer:** I'm just playing around, really. No, I know they're not mine and I'll give them back in one piece, I promise. I'll clean'em up, too.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 764  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** a little language and a blow job  
 **Summary:** Dean and Cas try to keep a seal from breaking in a convention center during a performance of Riverdance.

“Somebody kill me now, please!” Dean groaned as they were running through the underbelly of the convention center.  
On stage, several stories above, a performance of Riverdance was on and cheerful Irish dance music was pounding through the entire building.  
Dean’s head was throbbing in the same goddamned rhythm.  
“Cas, you sure the seal is gonna be broken here, of all places?” Dean wheezed as he ran.  
“The intel seems sound enough.” Shit, Castiel wasn’t even out of breath. Not even a tiny bit.

They finally reached the bottom level and burst into the room the demons were supposed to be sacrificing a virgin to break one of the last remaining seals by summoning Lugh, one of the Tuatha De Danann.  
“Fuck your intel, Cas.” Dean growled, perusing the empty room.  
“That is strange.” Castiel said, tilting his head. Dean never knew if he was just trying to get his brain cells to cooperate that way, or if he did it because he was trying to tune in to  celestial radio. Whichever it was, the movement drove him berserk.  
He gripped Cas and slammed him into the wall. “You drag me here, away from Sam. You subject me to this… crappola music. You make me run, you make me expect an epic battle and all you got to say in the face of total nothingness is ‘that is strange’?”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes. The human was much too close. Or maybe not close enough.  Cas moved his head forward and captured Dean’s lower lip in his mouth. The reaction was immediate and left Cas breathless a few minutes later. Dean sure was one fine kisser, Cas thought. He had had a lot of practice, of course and practice made perfect. Strangely enough, Castiel didn’t like this thought. It made him… angry, somehow.  
He freed himself from Dean’s grip and swiftly reversed their positions.  
He kissed his hunter. Hungrily, no holds barred.

Dean looked into Cas’ eyes. He could lose himself forever in their blue depth. No way was he going to let Castiel control this thing. He fought for some leverage, then reversed their positions yet again, slamming his angel into the wall with a little more force, maybe, than was strictly necessary, hoping Cas would get the message. He kissed Castiel again, hard and demanding. Their teeth collided as their tongues fought for mastery.  
Dean went down on his knees, ignoring Cas’ sound of protest. He gently ran his hand over the bulge in those damned black pants. He worked on the zip, then freed Cas’ straining erection. Dean gently ran his thumb over the head, caressing the slitted top.  
Dean felt Castiel’s hand in his hair. The angel made a purring sound and Dean took that to mean he should start the main event already.  
He took Cas’ dick in his mouth, finding the right rhythm quickly, using lips and teeth and tongue alternately.  
He knew precisely when to let up the pressure and when to up the ante and soon Cas’ hips were bucking and his angel was making urgent, breathy little noises.  
Dean freed his own erection from his jeans and started stroking himself in time to his ministrations on Cas’ cock. Dean felt Castiel’s hip stutter and then the angel came hot in Dean’s mouth.  
He finished himself off diligently only seconds later.

He looked up at Cas as he let the softening dick slide from his mouth and smiled widely. His angel looked like he was ready to drop to the ground in a helpless puddle of post-orgasmic relaxation. Cas’ pupils were still totally blown with lust.  
“You okay?” Dean asked huskily, still smiling.  
“I… uh.”  
“Mmmh, today’s a good day then. Gotta mark it in the calendar. The day I rendered the angel of Thursday speechless.”  
Castiel slid down along the wall and cupped Dean’s face with his hands. He ran his thumbs over Dean’s lower lip, then dipped his head and kissed his human soundly.  
“Words are sometimes exceedingly overrated,” the angel whispered.

They walked past a doorway and Castiel stopped to watch the dancing figures in the distance on stage. Ten men in 19th century outfits, with ruffled shirts and tight pants, were dancing in formation.  
“This looks strange.” Cas said.  
“Yeah, and if we stay here just one second longer, my head will explode. “  
“That would be a shame, I have grown rather fond of your mouth, really.”  
Dean snorted.  
“C’mon, Cas. You better hurry up if you want another close encounter of the Dean kind later tonight.“  
Castiel ‘s eyes were still glued to the stage.  
“That was a very bad movie and there was no sexuality anywhere to be seen. I fail to see why you would bring it up now.”  
“Dude, you’re killing me. Just come on already and leave those prancing prima donnas be.”  
They walked out quickly, the strains of “Lord of the Dance” following them outside.


	11. As you wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A quick drabble about music, laughter and kisses.

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 11**_  
 **Title:** As you wish  
 **Disclaimer:** All borrowed, but borrowed with love. Title and quote from The Princess Bride, music used are The Red Hot Chilli Pipers (there’s not 11 of them, I think, but…)and I actually LOVE them to bits.  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 244  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** bagpipes and a kiss.  
 **Summary:** A quick drabble about music, laughter and kisses.

“Dude, I’ve said this before, I say it again, we have to talk about your taste in music! Turn off the strangled cats already!”  
“But they are playing a medley of your favourite songs, Dean. See, there’s ‘We will rock you’  and then they segue into ‘Eye of the tiger’!”  
“All sounds the same to me! Where on earth did you find that crap?”  
“On youtube. They’re piping in formation, it’s really very cute. Eleven guys in skirts.”  
“I’ll have to have a serious conversation with Sammy about giving you unchecked internet access.”  
Castiel laughed and Dean was transfixed.  
Cas had never laughed before and it was the best thing Dean had ever heard. It was like… pancakes dripping maple syrup, like apple pie with hot vanilla sauce, like silken skin and good perfume, like every great thing he had ever seen, heard, smelled, touched or eaten at the same time.  
Dean pulled over and stopped the car.  
The second they were properly parked, he pulled Cas into a hard embrace and kissed him. His angel was still laughing and so Dean had very easy access.  
He kissed him through the peals of laughter, kissed him harder and deeper than he had ever kissed him before.  
Dean suddenly remembered a line from a movie he had seen:

 _“Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”_   



	12. Oh island in the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A quick drabble about music, food and kisses.

_**SPN Writers' Lounge The Twelve Days of Porn - Entry for Day 12**_  
 **Title:** Oh island in the sun  
 **Disclaimer:** How can I help borrowing them? They’re just so… cute!  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Word Count:** 228  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** steel drums and a kiss.  
 **Summary:** A quick drabble about music, food and kisses.

A Caribbean street festival. Perfect, just perfect.  
Dean leaned against a lamppost and was shoveling a rather nice Creole stew into his mouth.  
Well, okay, the food was great, but the steel drum band…  
A dozen people banging merrily away, butchering some Calypso tune… Who would’ve thought that you could actually butcher that?  
“Well, is that good music in your book, or not?” asked a low voice close to his ear.  
“Nope. Period. Here, have some of that stew, it’s fabulous.” Dean handed the bowl over to Castiel.  
Cas munched in silence, expression slowly changing from careful to rapt.  
Dean watched his angel eat and damn, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Or, at least seen today. Okay, he was totally talking in far too many superlatives lately and it was getting old fast, but how else would you talk about a freakin’ angel of the Lord, right?  
Dean grabbed a handful of trench coat and dragged Castiel behind a tent.  
He pressed his mouth hard against Cas’ and the bowl of stew dropped forgotten to the floor. He actually was swaying in time with the tune now, rubbing himself against Cas’ body.  
Dean’s tongue plundered the insides of Cas’ mouth and his hands were busy stroking the angel’s budding erection.  
Castiel disentangled his mouth to gasp: “Someone might come and see…”  
“I don’t care.”  
 


End file.
